For all the Mangos in the Yard
by SityGirl
Summary: Non magic AU. Hermione is a famous author. Harry is a famous actor. Let's see what happens when those two worlds crash. Rated M just in case. HermionexHarry
1. Chapter 1

I own nothing. Nothing I say!

For my Monster Mysteries readers - sorry for the long wait muses refuse to return my calls or answer any of my e-mails.

WARNING – ooc ahead, also some swearing….

Oh and if you don't like the dashes instead of quotation marks then I suggest you don't read because my shift gave up a year ago and dashes is all you get. If you do venture in despite it - enjoy.

'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-

- I cant believe you talked me into doing this. - She manages to suppress a flinch as deft hands tug on the hem of her _'understated yet fashionable sweater'_ and pull on the collar of her _'that's fuchsia not pink, darling'_ shirt that was sticking out of it. Apparently you can be a world wide best selling author and still not be allowed to dress oneself.

She was somewhat less successful of suppressing the flinch once her assistant stopped fussing with her clothes and pierced her with the stare only long suffering assistants with less than manageable charges can produce at the drop of the hat.

- _You_ are doing this for yourself. Your next book is amazing and it deserves to be promoted.

- But if it's amazing as you say shouldn't that be enough. Besides I thought you said this whole 'no one knows how you look like' is good with my type...

- ...and it was, but now that Last Sunset is being considered for a movie there is going to be publicity. A lot of it. And promoting. You are going to _have_ to promote it so it's better to do it on our terms from the start. Oh don't sulk.

- Am not…

- 10 more minutes ladies. - Parvati nods to show she's heard the announcement and turns back towards me.

- All right, make up is fine. Hair is... – she cuts herself with a long suffering sight. _Hey! _- Oh well it is what it is. Clothes... seriously you couldn't wear something more... well actually knowing what you wear while writing this is a huge step up.

- Hey! What have you got against Swets ant JoJo?

- And I will never find the fact that you name your sweatpants and t-shirts not disturbing.

That statement is followed by a headshake telling of exactly how many times they have had this exactly same conversation.

- They are my fountain of inspiration. - And there it is, the rising of a single eyebrow meaning this is neither the time or the place to annoy the person the runs your entire life. I shrug the shoulders in silent defeat. - What am I even supposed to talk about…

- Be your charming self. And I _know _you can do that. I've _seen_ you do it.

- Mia?

- Oh God. Just... just go for heaven's sake.

'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-

- And tonight with us is an amazing writer whose stories make us whimper in fear and check our closets for monsters. Hermione Granger!

A round of applause follows Hermione to the stage as she smiles and waves. As she talks with Jonathan it's all sweet voice and shy smiles. Even the idiots can see that she's charming the pants of off everyone in sight. She talks about her books and inspiration for each of them. Her whole appearance is incongruous to the books she's written and you can see the realization reflected in each of the faces as she talks about her favourite food and her recent trip to Athens.

They are mesmerized.

Parvati watches from the sidelines and loves every minute of it because she knows. It's all bull.

'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-

- Well that was fun? – Parvati is the first to breach the silence on the car ride back. I throw her a sharp look.

- Home. - She huffs, half laugh half exasperation. She knows my tendency for reverting to single word answers after being exposed to _others_ for too long.

- Whatever.

I should really find another assistant. Someone that'll obey and fear instead of push and intimidate. I cross my arms as I try to imagine what that would look like.

_Bah, that wouldn't be half as fun._

And Parvati _was_ amusing at least.

And trustworthy. Trustworthy is important.

- I'll bring Luna again tomorrow. We need to figure out what you're going to wear on Saturday. - I zone out her chatter and try to let only parts of it filter in.

Wait, Saturday?

- Wha…

- The reception? This Saturday? Oh for the love of... look I'll come around with Luna tomorrow and we'll pick something out. - I turn my head back to the window. I have officially run out of nice today. I need a couple of hours of sleep and six to eight hours in front of my computer.

I have to detangle the mess I've made of the last chapter in _Run-arounds_.

Too many distractions. Too many shabby ends. It needs to fit or I'll never finish.

- ..and maybe you'll meet a nice pink elephant and dance the night away.

- Mhmmm...sounds fun.

- Hermione! You're not even listening…

- Do I ever… - another huff, this one pure annoyance. Her tone turns sharper.

- Tomorrow. Five o'clock. Be awake. And be decent. – The car is pulling in front of the large brick building. _Finally._

- I can promise neither of those things. - I finally look at her and smile. - But I'll try.- And for my trouble I get an eye roll and a lip twitch.

It'll do.

I climb the stairs to the top floor. Never liked elevators though they can be useful little contraptions when one has shopping to drag to the fifth floor. I unlock the door and slink through the corridor shedding clothes like a tree in September. Hot shower and copious amount of chocolate later I am curled in front of my computer making indecent sounds and cooing to it.

There are days when even I doubt my sanity.

I lose myself in words. And everything else fades. Trips to the kitchen and bathroom are done on automatic. Parvati comes and goes and still my brain is too busy running my characters through their paces to take note. Emotions, actions, expressions, relations. It all spins around fitting and crashing in impossible combinations. Until I hit a dead end or find a right path.

Or someone pinches me.

- What the _fu_…! - Parvati is here again. Apparently. I blink, letting my sluggishly erratic brain to catch up with reality as it is outside of my head.

- With me? - I shrug, hoping the movement relays _as much as ever_. - It's Saturday. Gala is tonight. You need to get ready.- I nod. Small sentences. Parvati is great.

I stand up at her urging and let her usher me into the bathroom. I shower, put on whatever is put in front of me and follow her to the car. There is whole day of 'being a girl' in front of me so I try to spend as much of it in my head. Mostly ignoring the numerous people that are there to paint my nails or wax my legs or slather me in make up.

All too soon the time to get dressed is upon me and I am home again, in my bedroom, looking at a dress that has less material than my skimpy bathrobe.

- Hell no…

- Hermione…

- You said sensible. You said reasonable! - A confused blink greets that exclamation.

- I never said any of that.

- Aha! - I point at the traitor. - So you agree this isn't either! –I point at the _dress. _ She purses her lips. Again that particular mix of annoyance and amusement that is oh so familiar to me.

- This… - She points at the postage stamp draped on my bed. - Is a perfectly decent little black dress. What did you think? That I was going to bring a suit? - A sparkle in my eyes has her back-pedalling. – No! Out of the question! Get dressed. Now!

I mutter and drag my feet and ignore the whispered '_brat_' because it's tinted with affection so I shrug it off and get dressed. I zip the _thing_ up and… well…. I look… um… nice?

- Wow…. Hermione… I knew you had legs but…. - She coughs. - Very nice.

I shrug again and stare at my reflection some more, because… I look really good. I make eye contact in the mirror with Parvati. - Mia?

Her shoulders slump.

- If you must…

At that I stand straighter and smile brilliantly. I twirl around and start for the door. - Well let's go and charm some completely unimportant people.

I grab my coat as Parvati follows me down the stairs and off we go.


	2. Chapter 2

Explanation for long wait periods between chapters in profile.

Crack and some character bashing ahead so prepare.

Enjoy and leave a review.

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Harry gives his best friend an unimpressed look which apparently translates as 'say it louder' in Ron speak.

- Lavender, Harry!

- Yes, Ron. I heard you the first seventy two times… – But anything he might add is lost in the sea of 'Lav Lav's' qualities.

Harry sighs and leans back against the headboard of Ron's bed, trying not to wrinkle the black suit he's wearing, as he looks on. He is currently surrounded by what appears to be the entire contents of a semi large clothing store as Ron agonizes over the selection.

Harry sighs again and prepares for a long wait.

'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-

They get to the hotel an hour later than planned.

Well than their agents planned.

He was already painfully aware just how much of a freak Ron can be. An especially obsessive freak when the occasion asks for it and seeing Lavender Brown was just asking for it.

Harry straightens his lapels as he steps out of the limousine and waits for Ron's tall frame to unfold.

- So, game night?

- Don't know. Probably not. - That gets him a 'you're kidding' look he kind of expected.

Not welcomed, but expected.

- You're taking _me_ to a gala filled with gorgeous models and actresses in the off phase. Please. Of course it is. – Ron sneers and brushes of invisible lint from his meticulously picked attire in a highly sarcastic manner leaving Harry wondering how a flick can possibly translate as sarcasm. In the end he just shrugs and ignores his friend as they head towards the main entrance refreshingly empty of press.

- It doesn't feel like a one night stand evening.

- Harry… - and Harry looks up at Ron's sympathetic tone and how _dares_ he.

Just _no._

- Oh, hell no, you don't get to dispense anything resembling love advice 'Won Won'. – Ron blushes and pouts, an incredibly unattractive combination when witnessed on a ginger giant, but keeps quiet on the matter. Harry just rolls his eyes at him and motions towards the ball room door they're standing in front.

Ron grins and Harry rolls his eyes and off they go.

'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-

They have been in the room for all of five minutes before Ron is hopping in place trying to spot Lavender. Hopeful look on his face makes Harry grit his teeth to keep the words in knowing they won't be welcomed.

Especially if the words were 'she is the bitchiest bitch that has ever bitched and she's going to make you lay down and roll over just so she can step on you'.

It's useless. He's well aware Ron knows all this already and is still willing to...oh hell, Harry sighs and gives up

- Just go... – as soon as he's said it a quick grin is shot in Harry's direction and then all he can do is watch as Ron's back disappear in the crowd. A moment later a shouted 'Lav Lav' from another side of the lavish ball room is making meager contents of Harry's stomach turn.

- Next time I'm bringing Charlie. At least he won't buzz off at the sight of the nearest cleavage. - He huffs and turns towards the bar.

The _open _bar, thankyouverymuch.

- Whiskey, neat. - Bartender nods and reaches for the bottle. – Oh, and leave it somewhere handy. – Harry waves at the bottle. Bartender just blinks at him and fixes him his drink.

He takes his glass with a murmured 'thank you' and tries to steel himself for the dreadfully dull evening ahead before a velvety voice draws him away from the progressively darkening thoughts.

- Orange juice, please.

_What the..._ there's actually someone that _doesn't_ get plastered at these things?

What he convinces himself is pure curiosity makes him turn. And his glass halts half way to his mouth because... because... there is a nymph standing next to him.

Just a couple of feet away is the most stunning woman...girl...whatever...the perfection.

She is slightly shorter than him but in those heels she can easily match his height and maintain eye contact without craning her lovely, lovely neck. Harry surreptitiously uses his empty hand to check for overly obvious signs of droolage. There aren't any so he keeps on looking trying not to feel like a creep at the same time.

There is a wave of chocolate curls falling down The Girl's /she's earned the capital letters, in Harry's humble opinion/ back, framing a delicate face with eyes a shade or two darker then her hair. She is wearing a demure black dress and barely any jewelry. At least none that he could see.

Well she's not wearing a wedding ring or any sort of diamond and that's all Harry needs to know at the moment.

As he is staring at her she picks up her juice and turns around. Then freezes when she spots him looking and of course... here it comes. Harry instinctually braces for her reaction. Suddenly less concerned about being caught watching and more at her reaction of catching the eye of the famous Harry Potter.

He's been in enough of similar situations to know he can expect anything. From squealing fangirling to courteous simpering. The levels of starstruck change but the general behavior has reached a consensus.

If one is a famous actor he must be revered as a demigod.

Just because he is famous he can't possibly have the same compulsions as the rest of mere mortals or get tongue tied when in a presence of a beautiful girl.

It takes a couple of seconds as she holds his gaze and all the time he's acutely aware he is just standing there holding a glass near his chin. Frozen stiff enough to look nothing like causal and there is _no way _of finishing this standoff with anything resembling cool so he is equal amounts disappointed and grateful when the The Girl just raises her eyebrow at him /and what a beautiful eyebrow it is/ and walks back in the crowd.

Harry releases a breath he only now remembers he's holding and tries to follow her progression, but she is soon swallowed by the masses of bodies of which some are already extricating themselves from the fold and making towards him.

He sighs in disappointment at the missed opportunity and takes a fortifying breath before he pastes a smile on his face that stretches his muscles but rings with emptiness as he tries to reflect some of the admiration aimed at him by faces he doesn't care about.

'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-'-

Half an hour later finds him on the edges of the crowd positioned strategically behind an exotic looking indoor plant with a clear view of The Girl. He's observing /not stalking _thankyouverymuch_/ as she floats around the room charming everyone in sight with a somewhat short Indian girl perpetually attached to her side.

Hmmm…an agent probably. She could have maybe been a friend who didn't know anyone else here, but she didn't have that confused, out-of-place air about her.

And the third option of the girl being a date, or worse something even more permanent, wasn't even worth considering if the jealous twitch in his gut was anything to go by.

Oh, but The Girl was perfect. And he wasn't talking about rosy eyed embellishments or sentimentally colored dribblings. She was actually perfect. Working over the room like a veteran and yet from the many introductions it was obvious she was a relatively new arrival.

With the more boisterous crowd her laugh would get louder and more free, almost reaching Harry where he lurked /Stood! Not lurked! …_dammit! _/ on the edges. But with the more somber crowd her laugh would turn quiet, a smile an almost there visage. Her movements were fluid and elegant, always reflecting her current company, and so far not a single guest has failed to be charmed by her.

Oh, she was _good_.

Only few of the patrons showed any obvious recognition which made Harry cross actress from the list. She could be an up and coming new hot thing. She certainly acted as such.

And looked it.

And here he takes a moment to steer his mind from that particular gutter directed train of thought and turns his suddenly dazed eyes back on her. She was young, but not that young to be only now starting off. She was obviously doing this as a part of her job so Harry was left with a single conclusion that fit all the parameters above.

She's a supermodel trying to break into the movie industry.

He nods sharply, satisfied with his conclusion then nearly shrieks as a hand lands on his shoulder. He jumps around only to be met with a confused looking Ginny, her hand hovering in the air, movement forgotten at his reaction.

- Um… Harry?

- Oh, hey. Yeah, sorry...a bit out of it here… yeah, just you know… zoned out…um… sorry… - she blinks a couple of times at him and then peers around his shoulder.

She always was the smartest of the bunch.

Harry has no idea what she sees there but it makes her smirk at him and Harry takes that moment to try and remind himself why he thought being on friendly terms with ones best friend's bratty younger sister was a good idea.

It was a _terrible _idea that should have been nipped in the bud.

- So? I'm guessing Cho's not coming? - He glares at the _brat_ aiming for subdue-level glare, but it doesn't work, like any other time he tried it. She just laughs and waves him off as she leans around him again to look at The Girl.

- So, who is she?

Feeling uncharitable in the wake of being wrong footed he grumbles something resembling 'don't know' and then curses aloud as Ginny grabs him by the arm and starts dragging him in the direction of The Girl saying. - Well, let's find out. No use standing guard over the fichus the entire evening.

Momentarily derailed from cursing Harry twists in her hold to look over his shoulder.

- Is that what that thing is... - Ginny just scoffs as she steers them around a foggily familiar older couple she exchanges courtesy nods with before replying.

- Hell if know. I'm an actress not a horticulturist. Ask Neville.

- Oh, is he still obsessed with plants. - He attempts at casual as he tries to bury his heels in an inconspicuous manner. Not sure if that is even possible, but he still tries it.

Fails, of course, as Ginny's grip doesn't lessen any.

Harry can feel his heart racing and if anyone asked he'd claim it was annoyance at being manhandled by a sprite half his size, but if he were being honest… well he just wasn't ready to meet The Girl.

This might have been seen as an overreaction, especially since he was known world wide as a playboy that had a 'hit it and quit it' basically tattooed on his forehead. The truth was he was nowhere near the fictional number of girls he supposedly slept with.

Actually for the last three years due to constant working engagements his only 'hitting time' was with Cho.

And that was an on-off thing at best since she kept going back to Cedric fucking Diggory for their own version of the on-off thing. Ginny lovingly called her an empty headed slut.

But only where Harry could hear her.

Harry jerks out of his musings as their path is cut off by another familiar red head with a blond hanging from his arm like a limpet. The girl earns a weak smile from Harry and full bitch eating grin from Ginny.

Come to think of it, Ginny's attitude towards Cho could actually be called full out friendly considering the one she develops every time Lavender Brown is anywhere near.

- Did you guys hear? Lavender just signed for the new Thompson movie. It's gonna be amazing! She's filming it in Indonesia. How awesome is that! - Ron adoringly gazes at 'Lav Lav' as she preens under the obvious attention and Harry's stomach does a nauseous little flip at the sight. At the same time he feels Ginny's fingers dig into his arm as she swallows what are probably half a dozen, most likely more, barbed replies and finally pushes out an appropriately bland and congratulatory one as Harry nods along.

It's no help. They've tried everything but Ron can't be persuaded that Lavender isn't where the sun rises. They all know that she will drop him fast as a hot stone as soon as someone more perspective ambles along willing to give her the time of day.

But Ron knows that as well and swears that she only comes back because their love is the real one.

Harry just looks on as Ginny takes over his part of the conversation as well. He glances around ignoring the embellishing of Lav Lav's many non existent qualities coming from Ron and notices that The Girl is gone.

He sighs, relief and regret mixing in his chest. He's had enough for one evening.

He extricates his arm from Ginny's vice like grip and repays her for the previous manhandling by leaving her in the current company despite the not so subtle eyebrow waggling and, after realizing that yes he was actually leaving her with Lav Lav and her idiotic brother, murderous glaring.

He just smiles at the fuming read head and aims for the nearest exit. Which turns out to be the balcony door.

It'll do.

He slips through the glass door and finds himself standing on a dark balcony in nippy air staring at the most beautiful chocolate eyes he has ever seen.


	3. Chapter 3

Why is he just standing _there_?

…oh wait. I remember this one. He was doing this staring bit before as well.

Wait…which one was he?

Think…dammit, that was before Parvati started whispering their names in my ear so I could appear at least somewhat interested.

So many unimportant people…

Ok, getting off course here. The guy is still standing there, frozen in his tracks.

_Not saying anything._

Okay…stare back.

…and he's still staring.

Oh I know… smile. Vapid smiles are a to go thing in these circles, right?

I smile.

Well, that did nothing. No reaction from him and he is still just standing there. Mostly in the shadows and all around blocking the way to the door.

It's not like I feel intimidated or anything, but I am under strict orders from colonel Patil to behave which means I have to be _nice_ to people. And my form of niceness apparently does not correspond with other people's niceness.

You tell one person to shut up and suddenly there are borders being crossed. Whatever.

Ok, I can do nice. Even if this guy is behaving a bit on the weird side. I love weird. Weird is like home to me. It's normal that freaks me out.

Ok mister 'never saw a girl before' let's try communication of the basest level.

Dammit I turned Mia off. Now I have to do this on my own.

Stick to the basics.

- Hi. - All right that sounded sufficiently friendly. But if he just keeps standing there I have no idea what else to try.

Except slink around him and go back into the ball room. In which case I'd rather take my chances with a prospective axe murderer rather than a Hollywood executive. Those guys scare the shit out of me.

Oh wait he's snapped out of it.

- Um hi…yes hi… hi there - I blink.

That was…a lot of _hi's_ in one place.

He does have a nice voice. A low rumbling honey of a voice. Actually he sounds like he'd make an interesting character. Not much I can see with him standing in what little light there is from the balcony doors, but then again physical was never an important side of my characters. Messed up little things such as they are.

All right. Let's keep this diplomatic and bland.

Shit…what's appropriate without making me look like an idiot that spent most of her adult life as a part time hermit.

Oh yeah…

- I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you. - And I watch as he stares at me some more.

I _hate_ when Parvati makes me deal whit these things on my own.

'Oh just step out on the balcony for a moment' she said. 'I'll get right back' she said.

'_No one_ comes out here' …guess who said that one?

- Oh right… you don't... - he sounds wrong footed for a moment, making me think I was in fact introduced to him at some point and forgot. I start raking my brain, but all the new faces have sort of blended into a river of features and none of them really stand out.

I was always terrible with faces.

But while I may not remember faces some things always stand out - actions, idiosyncrasies, oddities.

I can't remember if I had been introduced to this face or not but I remember our strange meeting at the bar. So I tell him that.

- I do actually. - And it might be the trick of light but suddenly he looks stiff, like he's waiting for a hit to land. It's odd, but so far that appears to be the norm with him. I thought I knew what he was hinting at but obviously I've missed. Still, worth the shot. - We met earlier at the bar? Didn't get a proper introduction, though. - That seems to set him off and he finally moves. Towards me.

- Right, we didn't… because you.. Yes…. - he breaths deeply as he finally turns so that the light stops concealing most of his features and approaches.

I was right, he _is_ a worthy character material. I usually don't bother with physical features of my characters. They are bloody emotional messes from page one then just get more mental and darker as the reading goes. And fortunately I still haven't ventured into a genre where waxing poetically upon ones nose and mouth would be one of the major plot devices.

I feel chills come over me just thinking about it.

Character's eye color doesn't affect their actions or influences their emotional turmoil in any way so there's no point of focusing on it. But I have them in my head and this man, he looks just like Ethan would…all down to the charming bumbling.

Which in turn snaps me out of my head and I find myself back at the balcony and realize this time I'm doing the staring. I can feel myself blush, but the man just smiles.

Great, now I'm the damsel in a shit chick-lit meet-cute. Awesome.

And I can't say anything without the fear of coming off as a rude introvert that I am and accidentally alienating a possible useful contact.

I'm still wondering why I'm at this thing at all.

- I'm Harry Potter. - He trusts his hand at me and then glances at it like it acted out of turn. I can feel myself smiling. There aren't many people that I find interesting, even less that keep the interest, but I found this mix of confusion and forcefulness standing in front of me captivating.

I grab his hand and shake it before he can pull it back and punish the poor appendage for something it was completely not its fault.

- Hermione Granger. Pleased to meet you. - I add and surprisingly find myself meaning it for the first time that evening.


End file.
